Thursday, August 29, 2013

Chapter Three - Life is A Bowl of Toilets and I Feel Flush #humor @gingersimpson

Strangers in the Night

Oh, how I wish I still had a memory. That's one of the first things to go as you age. One day you're heading down the hall and you suddenly realize you have no idea why...or even of your final destination. The first time it happens is a horrible feeling, but soon becomes so commonplace you simply rearrange your life to accommodate those lapses in memory. Some use a checklist before leaving home to make sure they don't burn the house down by forgetting to turn off appliances. I don't bother because I can't count how many times I've made a list for the grocery story and get there without it. I've solved the key finding dilemma by attaching them to my purse strap with a hook, and now the problem is remembering where I parked by car. Thank goodness for the panic button on the back of the keyless entry or I'd still be wandering around in the parking lot at Walmart.

And...is there anything more embarrassing than running into people you don't remember, especially when they seem to know you quite well? If the "strangers" are close to my age, I try to fish for tips on how we know one another. Hopefully, they won't remember when they get home, anyhow.

I think everyone over fifty should have their names embroidered on their clothing in a highly visible area, and in large letters for those of us who left our glasses somewhere and can't find them.

Here's an example of what might be looming in our future:

Two elderly women were out for a cruise, neither could barely see over the dashboard of the large vehicle. As they moved along the boulevard at a healthy clip, they reached an intersection where the traffic light was red. Instead of stopping, the car went right through.

The woman in the passenger seat glanced back over her shoulder while mumbling, "I must be losing my my mind. I swear that light was red."

After a few more minutes they came to another intersection and red light and just as before, the car raced right through. A little further down the street, it happens again.

Now the lady in the passenger seat begins to panic, but before she can say anything, her friend runs another red light.

Fearing for her life, the passengers turns wide eyes on her friend. "Mildred, do you realize you've been running every red light since we left home. You would have killed us both."

Mildred turned to her with a bewildered look. "Oh crap! Am I driving?"

******

Along with your memory goes you eyesight. God was kind here because most people over fifty have lost some degree of vision, most likely to balance the shock of the body changes we experience. Luckily, we don't have to wear our corrective lenses to bed or senior sex would come to an immediate halt. If we saw one another with 20/20 accuracy, we'd probably consider celibacy a serious cure.

Senior sex, you say? Studies show that most adults stay sexually active well into their golden years and actually enjoy the intimacy more than when they were young. I have to admit, I'm trying only because I've read that sex can prolong your life. I view intercourse as a monthly dose of exercise. Why jog when I can make love and cause my heart to race just by trying to assume positions I favored in my younger years. I've decided the "missionary" is my favorite at this stage of life since I spend most of my time praying for the torture to end. The article stated seniors actually enjoy sex more? I've come to the conclusion the study most likely was based on bedroom noises. It's hard to decipher between someone lost in the throes of ecstasy and someone with the sudden onset of leg cramps. Face it, at fifty or older, most of us just aren't as agile as we used to be.

I just don't want to be like the women in these jokes:

An elderly woman ambles down the nursing home hallway. She stops in front of each old man along the way, rests on her walker, flips up the bottom of her nightgown and says, "Supersex?"

After stopping in front of four or five gentlemen and not receiving any response, she pauses before a newcomer who sits in his wheelchair. Again, she flips up the hem of her gown and says, "Supersex?"

The elderly man gives her a quick once over. "I'll take the soup, please."

OR

Eight-year-old Bessie bursts into the rec room at the retirement home. She holds her clenched fist in the air. "Anyone who can guess what' s in my hand can have sex with me tonight." A yell comes from an elderly man in the back of the room. "An elephant?"

Bessie thinks for a moment then smiles. "Close enough!"

My gradual loss of vision and sex drive coincided with the spouting of long hairs on my neck and a few on my upper lip. What's that about? I had a hysterectomy, took hormone replacement pills daily, and now I'm growing a beard? I don't know about you but I think my husband should be the only one in the house with whiskers or a moustache. It's even more humiliating when I have to ask him to "pluck" me since I can't see well enough to do it myself, and he can't hear without his hearing aids. I can't stand the look of rejection on his face when I clarify what I asked for, so I've taken to getting facial waxes at my local salon.

I remember my first visit when I first read the menu and found they offered "bikini waxing." I might have considered one if I had a bathing suit body, but a few stray pubic hairs really are the least of my concern at this point. In my younger years I did do a little trimming here and there on occasion, but I never considered asking a stranger to do it for me.

I realize I'm touching on a very sensitive topic, but consider this a warning. Be thankful you have what you have, while you have it. One of life's best kept secrets is that the hair on your head aren't the only locks that turn gray, and worse than that, not only men develop male-pattern baldness. Let me just say that baby girls may look cute out of their diapers, but there is nothing attractive about a graying, balding who-who. The way gravity is shifting everything downhill, it won't be look before my boobs hid the problem anyhow...as long as I don't lay down.

Here's a few things you can count on after you turn fifty:

Time may be a great healer, but it's a lousy beautician.

There are three signs of old age...the first is memory loss...I can't remember the other two.

Your mind wanders. Sometimes it leaves completely.

You are definitely old when you get the same sensation in your stomach from a rocking chair that you once got from riding a roller coaster.

Never read the small print. Too much effort for something you won't like anyhow.

If you let a smile be your umbrella, you'll most likely walk around soaking wet.

There are two things you will do with greater frequency...urinate and attend funerals.

After a certain age, if you don't wake up aching in every joint, you're most likely dead.

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